The Harder They Fall
by BuriedBeneath
Summary: After eleven years spent in slavery, Minara Tao has her first taste of freedom with the official discovery of her Force-sensitivity. In an unexpected twist of fate, however, it comes at the hands of the very Empire that enslaved her, and she'll be damned before she lets that go. **Companion piece to Questionable Cargo
1. Prologue

_Author's Note_

Well, I've had this prologue sitting on my hard drive for months, waiting for an appropriate time to post it. I figure after the recent events of_ Questionable Cargo_ (chapter 14, for those not following that particular story of mine and who may be interested in checking it out), now would be a good time.

It is indeed a story about my sith inquisitor. However, I will be taking some slight artistic license. And though this story is independent of QC, the two stories are most certainly connected, and there will be references to each, as well as guest appearances from my other characters. You don't necessarily _have _to be following both stories to get the full experience, but if you want background on certain situations regarding other characters, it'd be a good idea to either ask me, or check out the other story.

Time passes relatively quick during the prologue, but the end of this prologue occurs approximately two years before the start of _Questionable Cargo. _However, the timelines will eventually converge.

Enjoy!

- BB

**Disclaimer:** _Star Wars: The Old Republic_ is the property of BioWare and Lucas Arts. Please don't sue me.

* * *

**The Harder They Fall  
****Prologue:** _The Higher They Climb_

Slavery is a funny thing. It has this lovely way of making a person feel like they're worth less than the dirt beneath their master's feet. And the master certainly doesn't deny it because doing so would mean the slave is actually a living, breathing being, with complicated thoughts and emotions, and we _certainly _can't have them thinking that. Stars forbid they actually start feeling like their lives have _meaning_.

Sooner or later, the slaves will start to believe what their masters say, and that's when their freedom is truly taken away.

Minara, however, was not always a slave. She grew up on the streets, and was taken by Imperials when she was thirteen. Had she been taken at a younger age, like most of those taken with her on that life-changing day, perhaps she may have been broken by now, and more willing to give up her independence, but growing up on the streets of Coruscant's G17 district didn't shape fragile women. Her younger sister had been left behind to fend for herself in the seedy, poverty-stricken underworld of Coruscant, and she could only hope the example she tried to live by rubbed off on her young, impressionable mind enough to keep the young girl alive. That's not to say she was taken without a fight. She had a sister to look after (though there was no chance in _hell _she was letting that slip to the Imperials), and she was not about to just _let _herself be taken. It was a fight she had lost, however, and her ten year old sister had been left alone, forced to watch from the relative hidden safety of a metal air duct as Minara was dragged, kicking and screaming from their tiny shanty never to been seen again.

Indeed, eleven years later, she had not seen or heard from her sister since that day. She had no idea if the girl was even alive. Imperial slaves were not exactly _privy _to that kind of information, sister or not. She'd been in the service of enough masters to know that much.

There were talks of her being sent to become a dancer in some seedy cantina somewhere on Dromund Kaas when her real age was eventually discovered. But with her tendency toward rebellion, the slavers thought it would be easier to break her at the hands of a single master in his estate.

They were so very, utterly wrong. She became known for her efficiency, but it came with a healthy dose of insubordination to measure alongside of it. When one master grew tired of her stubborn resistance to learning her place despite their (often severe) punishments for such behaviour, she was simply sold to another master. There was no doubt in her mind that many other slaves would have been killed by now. The only reason she was still alive was because she never did anything half-way. If she was to be a slave, she would be the best damn slave there was, and though her masters' orders were typically carried out with no shortage of attitude (her cocked eyebrow and rolling eyes—though silent—were her most successful methods of annoyance to date) they were carried out faster and to a higher quality than any other slave in their employ.

Minara prided herself on building her skills—slicing, building, tinkering, cleaning, cooking, what have you—until they were perfected, because doing so earned her her life, and at least some semblance of personality. She had only ever refused one order in her time as a slave, and though it had cost her dearly, she did not regret it.

_Slavery could always be worse_, she told herself as she started her work for yet another master. Having no idea what to expect always made her slightly nervous, but she didn't survive on the streets by being inadaptable, _There are always worse masters. I could be working for the Emperor himself._ A chill rushed down her spine at that thought, and she shook it off as she was lead to her quarters, which... were not that bad, actually, and she allowed herself to wonder if maybe this master might be one of her better ones. He was a short, stubby man with a receding line of white hair. Some noble, apparently high on the Imperial food chain. She didn't really know any more than that; she honestly wasn't listening when the slaver told her who he was, and she wasn't really expected to know anything unless her new master said as much.

There was one thing she had learned, however, in her (albeit reluctant) service to the Empire. Not _all _Imperials were evil. In fact, most were everyday people; some were even _reasonable_. Granted, slave owners' willingness to put a price on a human life didn't make them the best of people to begin with, but Minara had served four other masters in her eleven years of service. Only one of those had demanded more from her than she was willing to give, in order to pay off a debt her mistress at the time had owed to some gang lord. When she refused, she'd paid dearly, but it was better than the alternative. Needless to say, her time was short with that particular owner.

After a short time in the service of her latest and final owner, she had to admit her lot was not too bad, considering. Stars knew she'd had worse masters. This man at least treated her with some (albeit a very minute amount) of humanity, and not like a piece of the furniture. It was a refreshing change, but still, even after all these years and having long since come to terms with her lot in life, she longed for her freedom.

She didn't discover her force-sensitivity until years after she'd been sold into slavery. She had no idea what it was at the time or what it meant, and kept it hidden from her master. It was too weak and untrained to be of any use to her, and her fear of what would happen if she was discovered helped her keep it to herself. Perhaps her connection to the force was why she had survived for so long on the streets. She could never be certain. All she knew was that she had always been unusually lucky, and had ridiculously quick reflexes. It made her somehow able to escape what would otherwise be a hopeless situation, dragging her sister behind her.

That was, until her last master, a stocky imperial moff named Mietro was pursued by republic spies, and she took the controls of his speeder, kicking it into speed in a tightly-cornered area of the city, manoeuvring it into a flip, or a roll, or just _slightly _to the side _before _blaster beams unleashed on them from where she had just been merely a fraction of a second prior. They'd escaped the tight quartered chase without even a scratch on the speeder.

So, when her master discovered her Force-sensitivity, even _if _he was relatively nice, she had _certainly _not expected her freedom to be one of the things he gave her.

Well... sort of.

Her "freedom" was the reward for saving Mietro's life, as opposed to letting him die and running to save herself. It came with the one condition that she be tested by the Empire and trained in the ways of the sith if she turned out to be powerful enough to do so. If not, she would return to his service, but she would be a paid servant rather than a slave. It still wasn't much of a life, if you asked her, but those were her choices, and if she succeeded in becoming a sith, she'd have to answer to a lot less, and her freedom might even lead her to her sister.

Even so, she had left one form of slavery and embraced another, some would say. Stars knew she wasn't looking _forward_ to helping the Empire that enslaved her. Although, she did have to admit that the thought of growing more powerful and using that power to covertly destroy the Empire from the inside out sure was appealing, and it wasn't like she had anything to lose if she died in the process. Maybe this Sith thing wouldn't be so bad?

And who knew? Maybe she'd be able to use her newfound freedom to find her sister?

And so, she'd spent the next two years in combat and force training to build her skills in preparation for the trials before finally being enrolled in the academy.

* * *

Being an acolyte was just as bad as Minara had imagined. Her only real consolation was the fact that she was free to run her mouth to pretty much anyone she wanted, save for apprentices and sith lords. Overseer Harkun certainly didn't fit that description, and she always found some excuse to push on the boundaries a little. Perhaps if he was a little less likely to insult her and see her as nothing more than a slave, she would be less likely to supply him with a liberal amount of wit and comedic timing. Living on the streets didn't really encourage her to submit to authority, and if she was no longer officially considered a slave, she didn't see why she should answer like one, regardless if whether the overseer still treated her like one.

Besides, Lord Zash found her _interesting,_ despite her tendency for insubordination. If that wasn't a license to push on the boundaries a little, she didn't know what was.

It wasn't lost on her that the only reason she hadn't been killed yet was _because _of Lord Zash's interest in her, and her skills had far surpassed most of the other acolytes—perhaps even all of them (and oh, how she wished to test that theory in a "_friendly"_ battle with Ffon). The gusto with which she threw herself into her trials in order to prove herself was outmatched only by her hatred for the very empire she was assisting and her desire to see her slavers go down in a storm of her own lightning was so strong she almost dreamed about it.

She was not to be taken lightly, however. If her role was to be sith, there was _no _way she was going back to being anything less. Minara was determined to prove herself, and true to her history, she never did anything half-way. If she was to become sith, she was going all the way.

Perhaps her sister was force-sensitive too, she occasionally wondered. If so, she desperately hoped the girl ended up on the other side of the war, even if the thought of one day possibly having to fight her sister as a jedi absolutely terrified her. By the time she became an acolyte, it had been thirteen years since they'd last seen each other. What if Minara didn't recognize her sister? What if she ended up eventually killing her sister without even knowing it?

That thought filled her with such debilitating fear that she found she couldn't breathe.

_Don't think like that, _She told herself, _You're going to get through these trials, become a sith apprentice, and use your power to find your sister and destroy the Empire from the inside out._

She had to wonder why the Empire saw any value in force-sensitive slaves like herself. She could never imagine willingly helping the Empire that enslaved her. She would have the power to do something as an apprentice, as long as she was discreet about it. They had taken her from her home, from her sister, and from a good (albeit hard and poverty-stricken) life of _freedom _and forced her into a life of servitude and confinement, and she _hated _them for it. Now, she was using that hate and that anger to make herself stronger, and eventually, when she was powerful enough, she would use that power to destroy the empire from the inside. The irony was almost poetic.

It was far from easy, however. Losing herself to the dark side was a constant temptation, and while she embraced the hatred and the anger, she loosed it on not on the republic, but on those of her own kind. In secret, of course. She would surely be executed as a traitor (if she were lucky) if she was discovered. But she had none of the resistance training of the Jedi. She had no knowledge of how to keep the dark sided tendencies within her at bay. She had only her sheer force of will, and the street-smarts of a woman raised in poverty to help her. But she was trying. She'd taken great pains not to lose herself to the dark side, as well as a number of extreme risks. She'd warned a captured jedi of a plan to use him against the republic once she let him go, and had refused to torture a fellow acolyte for answers after he'd witnessed a murder at the hands of a sith apprentice. Although, it should have been no secret when she joined the academy that she had a problem submitting to authority, despite the fact that she'd been a slave for the past eleven years. She did enough of that when she was a slave and now, she would make the most of her freedom—starting with Harkun. Minara rather did enjoy getting him riled up.

* * *

If being an acolyte was bad, being an apprentice was only slightly better if only for the increase of authority she now wielded. Her arrival on Dromund Kaas was a painful reality check that came at the hands of a slave rebellion. How she wished there had been some way to help them. They were her kinsmen, more than the other acolytes and sith. As it was, as much as she wished to see the rebellion succeed, a slave rebellion on Dromund Kaas was doomed to fail, and when it did, those slaves would be lucky if they died before being tortured for no reason other than wishing to cause them pain, and her plan couldn't afford a slip in her guise of Imperial support. The best she could possibly afford them was a quick, painless death rather than the slow torturous one they'd undoubtedly receive at the hands of the sith.

_You're a sith too, Mina._ A voice reasoned with her mentally.

_Only in title._ She answered without hesitation. She would spend the rest of her days keeping it that way. _I won't lose myself to the darkness. I can't. I know what it does to people, and I can't become a person my sister would hate to meet._

They did attack her first, but that was beside the point. They saw her as a threat, and really, she was, because there was nothing she could do to help them, and rather avoided them as much as possible. She'd been on the planet only a day, and already her heart was aching for the things she had to do.

She could defect to the republic, she supposed. But her success wasn't guaranteed until she had more power. And besides, she could do so much more for them on the inside, in secret. Regardless, she needed more power, first. And not only that, she needed more freedom, and connections on the outside.

She needed to become a Darth.

Only then would she have enough freedom to take a few more liberties with her standing in the Empire.

Only then would she have the power to find her sister without putting the poor girl at risk.

Setting a course for Balmorra, Minara let out a sigh, staring out the viewport to a vast sea of stars with her arms crossed over her chest._  
_

_One thing at a time._


	2. Not The Most Homey of Places

_Author's Note:_

_Usual thanks to my reviewers, followers, lurkers, etc. Not much else for me to say here._

_Oh yeah, I'm posting this with my iPad while on a break at school, so there are probably several formatting issues until I can get my hands on my home computer to fix it. _

_Enjoy!_

_- BB_

* * *

**The Harder They Fall  
****Chapter One: **_Not the Most Homey of Places_

* * *

"_The colicoids make for poor company." - Minara Tao_

* * *

The very second Minara set foot on the planet of Balmorra, she wanted to turn around and leave again. This was the very last thing she wanted to be doing. But if this—killing colicoids and jumping into pits of toxic waste—was what it would take to become a Darth and gain enough freedom to contact her sister and secretly begin sabotaging the Empire, she would do it.

It wasn't easy, playing both sides of the war. As much as she wished she wasn't Sith, Minara knew she could never be a Jedi. The rules and obligations amounted upon the Order were far too infringing on her freedom, and she knew her anger, hatred, and thirst for revenge upon the Empire would never be accepted in the Jedi. She would forever be in limbo, an exceptionally powerful wielder of both light and dark, but with nowhere to go, no one to accept her. The Jedi may tolerate her existence, but she would never be accepted as one of their own, as she knew she could never give up these emotions that defined everything she had left to live for.

She had accepted this early on, when she'd decided to submit herself to the Academy (not that she had a whole lot of choice in the matter). But that didn't make it any easier.

One of the hardest parts was maintaining Khem Val's trust. When it came to combat, Minara was more reliant on force powers and lightning than lightsaber skill (though said skills were certainly nothing to laugh about) so having him around to take the brunt of the heavy hits made him an invaluable addition to her crew. But he was an assassin in every sense of the word. If a decision came down to life or death (especially with members of the Republic) she'd almost infallibly choose life. Such choices didn't gain her any points of approval in his book, and he made no secret of it. So, she had to be careful. Though she'd beaten him when they first met, she doubted he'd allow her the opportunity to do so a second time.

Her regret for dragging Iannos Tyrek back to the Empire after he'd managed to escape to the Republic unscathed plagued her, but it was the only way to get her hands on the artifact she needed, even if his views of "slaving day in and day out" while being paid to create weapons grated on her. Thoughts of _You know nothing of being a slave_ bitterly crossed her mind more than once during her initial conversation with the former Imperial scientist.

She had given him her word that he could walk away without any protest from the Empire under her orders once the work was done, but it was a promise she wasn't sure she could keep.

Minara was entirely too kind, in the eyes of other Sith. They saw her as weak, though she was determined to prove herself as anything but. No doubt her mercy would come back to bite her in the ass one day, given her treatment of Major Bessiker's son Hiran after she received the coordinates to his location. He was apparently captured, and Bessiker had refused to help her unless she got him back. She had to give the man credit for electing to back a Sith into a corner in order to help his son. She really had no choice but to go after the boy.

Then again, most Sith would likely have killed Bessiker for such an action and screamed at someone until they were presented with another way to solve their problem. He had evidently sensed her avoidance of violence in his dealings with her, using it to satisfy his own goals. How... Imperial. And yet, she was not under the impression that he thought of her as weak, either. She got a heavy sense of respect from him, and so she respected him in kind. But his affection for his son unsurprisingly outweighed any regard for his respect for her. She filed that away in her mind for later... especially when it turned out Hiran was an insufferable, arrogant bastard.

"The old man sent you for me, didn't he?" The imprisoned Sith responded upon her approach to his cell, "He must have gotten my distress signal. Guess the old fool's still good for something."

Her gaze remained carefully impassive, though Hiran's behaviour had set off explosions of rage within her after she'd just fought through slews of the Balmorran militia just to free him. Truth be told, she hadn't been expecting a great first impression of the Sith to begin with, but his lack of respect for his father had her biting back the scathing words and masking the feelings that would otherwise betray her outer lack of concern. _You're lucky the "old fool" is still alive and kicking, you disgusting waste of Force energy._

She was tempted to turn around and leave him there when he outright _demanded_ that she free him. As her equal, he had no right to demand anything of her, and then he had the gall to _threaten _her. She nearly laughed in his face!

It was her respect for Hiran's father that ultimately had her agreeing to free the boy, and if she left him there, there was no guarantee that Bessiker would help her. And so, as Hiran walked away unscathed, she mused that if she ever saw him again, he wouldn't be so lucky.

Her later dealings with Dr. Tyrek once she returned to Bessiker were admittedly more pleasant once he understood that all she wanted from him was a serum to grant her immunity to the toxic waste near the vault, and though he was confused as to why she needed it, he followed through with his research anyway. Fortunately, arranging for the man's freedom hadn't been an issue. The authority she wielded as an apprentice still surprised her sometimes, though she was sure it had had Zash spitting fire from her office back on Dromund Kaas when she learned of Minara's mercy. Khem Val certainly wasn't singing her praises for the decision.

"Ugh." She grumbled, covering her nose with the back of her hand once they'd dispatched of the local colicoids populating the entrance of the toxic vault. She turned to look up at her towering companion, "Smells rank down here. This serum had better work."

Khem Val, remaining characteristically stoic, didn't reply, and they set into the vault to retrieve their desired artifact.

The stench of colicoid blood was overwhelming, and Minara was endlessly glad that she typically fought from a distance. Stars knew she didn't want that stuff on her. These were her favourite robes, but they were a nightmare to clean on a _good _day. The presence of colicoid blood marring the reddish fabric would likely have her burning them just to rid herself of the smell.

Not that it mattered anyway. The damn colicoid broodmother seemed determined to make the ranged-fighting Sith her main target, even with Khem batting away at the insectoid's knees with his massive vibrosword. By the time the mutated creature had finally fallen, Minara was virtually covered in blood—both her own and that of the broodmother—though her own injuries were trivial compared to the ones delivered by the combined effort of her and her begrudgingly devoted companion.

Exhausted, she approached the altar and expended what little was left of her Force energy to electrify the mechanism and acquire the holocron she'd worked so bloody (pun intended) hard to obtain.

She was happy to finally be done with the place once the artifact was in her hands. She was done with the whole planet, really. When Darth Lachris called upon her a second time to assist with the Balmorran occupation, she politely declined, thankful to finally be able to say "good riddance" to both the planet, _and_ its damn colicoids. Her standing within the Empire called for a certain amount of cooperation regarding the Balmorran resistance and their violation of the peace treaty, but now that Minara had what she'd come for, she had no desire to devote any more energy to helping Lachris or the rest of the Empire than she had to.

So she bid her farewells to Bessiker and his Captain before finally heading back to the _Fury _to report to Zash and set a course for their next destination, take a much-needed rest, and a shower. Not necessarily in that order.

"Ah, apprentice!" Zash greeted in that achingly too-friendly voice. Minara knew her tendency toward mercy annoyed her master greatly, though for some reason, the woman never berated her for it. Zash was admittedly one of the friendliest Sith Minara had met, which only made her that much more suspicious. There was an ulterior motive there somewhere. This, she knew without question, and thus fully expected her master to betray her at some point, but she had no idea how, or how she could possibly avoid it given how much she needed her master this early in her career as a Sith.

"I have the artifact." The apprentice reported.

"Excellent!" Zash continued, "I trust Major Bessiker was a good help, and that your stay on Balmorra was a pleasant one?"

"He was," Minara replied, then her face twisted into a grimace, "though I can't say I'd recommend the planet as a good vacation destination. The colicoids make for poor company."

Her master grinned, "Well, then you'll be pleased to know I've traced another artifact to Nar Shaddaa, but I'm still trying to locate the other two. I'll see what I can learn while you're on Nar Shaddaa."

Minara nodded her understanding, and Zash beckoned her away, "Now hurry. There can be no gain without haste."

The holo winked out of view and Minara let her shoulders sag with a sigh. "First thing's first." She muttered to herself, turning and stalking purposefully to her quarters. She beckoned to her steward droid to follow before disappearing into her room and trying futilely to scrape some of the yellowish blood from her clothing with her gloves.

Failing miserably, she regretfully stripped the beloved robes from her body, gagging at the stench and threw on a light sleeping shirt before opening the door and unceremoniously tossing the dirtied clothing at the droid waiting outside.

"Burn these robes." She ordered, turning away and grabbing another set of robes before heading to the 'fresher, calling to the droid as she passed him, "And be thankful you have no sense of smell!"

"Y—yes Master." The droid spluttered, before turning sharply on a metallic heel and rushing back into the hall, "Right away, Master!"


	3. A Little Too Close to Home

_Author's Notes: _

I'm back once again with some more of this crazy adventure! Thanks, as always, to my followers/reviewers/lurkers/fav-ers. You're the best, and I love each and every one of you. :)

I love how so much of the SI story involves the SI's past escape from slavery, only to constantly be faced with situations regarding some form of slavery or servitude. But I hate how little the SI is affected by it in the game. I understand that as a game, they can only do so much, but this is fanfiction, damn it! And my SI is not a machine! She's an unstable emotional wreck when she's alone, and it only gets worse during Act 2 (for those of you familiar with the SI story, you know what I'm talking about). But she's also cunning and manipulative, constantly seeking to further herself in the Empire so she can achieve her goals, and doing many things she's not proud of to get where she needs to be. I hope her internal thought processes convey the emotional stress she's going through and the constant struggle with her conscience.

Enjoy!  
-BB

* * *

**The Harder They Fall  
Chapter Two: **_A Little Too Close to Home_

* * *

"_I am not your friend, little Sith." – Khem Val_

* * *

The arrival to Nar Shaddaa was uneventful at best. Minara had spent her first few years as a slave here, so she couldn't exactly say she was happy to be back. The shining towers and fancy lights were a front that masked an underworld almost as corrupt as Coruscant's, and it seemed like the higher up the food chain you got, the more lies were hidden behind a fake smile and a greeting far too friendly to be genuine.

She pulled the ship in to dock and let out a sigh, taking a moment to mentally prepare herself for what was ahead before she rose and made her way into the comm. room to update her master on her progress.

"Ah, Apprentice. You've reached Nar Shaddaa safely. Good!"

Minara nodded, but was unable to completely wipe the disgust from her face when she responded, "Yes, though I can't say I'm glad to be back here again. Can I just grab the artifact and be done with this place?"

"I'm sure you're no stranger to the misery and desperation that rule the slums below. But desperation can drive people to many things. Remember that in your quest to find the artifact."

"Any idea where I should start?"

"In this case, the _who _is more important than the _where_."

_Oh fantastic. _She thought with heavy sarcasm, _Because I do so love dealing with people._

"The artifact," Zash continued, "a pendant called The Eye of Tulak, belongs to the Sith Lord Paladius. He's lived here many years, converting Nar Shaddaa's poor and suffering into zealous followers. His own cult."

Minara felt her gaze darken around the edges with anger. The emotion must have been clear in her expression because she didn't really try to hide it (Zash could sense her displeasure anyway) and her master let out a chuckle.

"Your distaste for the man is unsurprising given your background." She replied, "But It's no concern of mine that he preys on these people, except that the attention has gone to his head. Paladius leads his cult from seclusion, but you can draw him out. I've contacted two of his former cult members. They're in hiding now, fearing retribution, but hungry for revenge. They should prove useful."

"How did you convince them to help us?"

"I have encouraged their cooperation with the assurance that once Paladius is gone, the cult is theirs to lead."

Minara's disgust with the situation was more than evident, "Please tell me I don't have to follow through on that. Power-mongers who use their freedom to rule others aren't worth the air it takes to keep them alive, especially when they've lived that life and know how much suffering it causes."

"Really?" A light eyebrow crept upwards on Zash's forehead as her arms crossed over her chest, "And is your situation so different, Apprentice?"

Mina shook her head, "I never asked for this."

"No, but you did fight for it once you were given the option."

"What option?" She countered, "It was this or servitude!"

"And for these two, it is this or extreme poverty."

"I..." Minara was ready to object, but she trailed off when the truth of her master's statement sunk in and she let out an aggravated sigh, "I see your point."

"Even so, the artifact is all that matters." Zash replied, "Do whatever you feel is necessary with Paladius and his cult."

"You still haven't told me what ritual these artifacts are for." Minara responded, her eyes narrowing in curiosity (and indeed a little suspicion) at the holo.

"Indeed, and it will stay that way until the time for the ritual is upon us." Her master explained, a tiny smirk tugging on her lips, "Be swift, Apprentice. The sooner you get the artifact, the sooner you can be done with this planet you so hate."

The warehouse wasn't hard to find, and when they walked into the atrium where she was supposed to meet the two former cultists, she could hear a voice that-though distorted by the tell-tale echo effect of a holocall-was so patronizing, so self-satisfied and arrogant that it could only have been Paladius.

"Oh, Destris. Dear, brutish Destris. And Rylee. So beautiful and intelligent. You were like children to me, which is why it pains me to do this."

As she approached the rendezvous point and saw the two figures in the middle surrounded by a collection of determined-looking fighters who were armed to the teeth, it became apparent that the two former cultists she was supposed to be meeting were dealing with a problem of their own. Above the holoterminal was a projected image of a portly pureblood Sith, his robes and facial jewellery high-class and expensive, and he stared at the young man and woman with an air of disdain that he didn't even bother to conceal.

"You can cut the act, Paladius." The young man-apparently Destris-responded, his rough low voice tinged with disgust as he drew his hand sharply through the air, "You've never cared about any of your _children_."

"We don't want a tyrant for a father." The girl added. Her voice was small, gentle, but her words were sharp and angry.

"Ah, well said!" Paladius replied, his mouth parting in a wide grin, "Marvelous last words. Truly, I expected nothing less, which is what makes his so hard."

Minara's lip curled downward at his false emotion as her arms crossed over her chest. The man was an insufferable, arrogant bastard.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, my other children would like to play with you." He said nothing else before cutting the call, and Minara watched the ambushers draw their weapons for attack.

"Yes," She chimed in before anyone could move, her lightsaber snapping to life in a flash of yellow light, "Well, perhaps if he didn't take the time to ramble incessantly about how you were his _children _and this _hurts _him, he would have gotten the job done before I showed up."

Rylee and Destris looked to her in surprise as the ambushers turned on her. Murder was written clear on their faces as they leapt up to defeat the unforeseen threat presented by she and her frighteningly large and muscled companion.

"Fortunately for you two," she said as Khem gutted one of the attackers on his massive blade, and she deflected a blaster bolt with her lightsaber before retaliating with a vicious blast of lightning, "I need your help."

They just stood there in astonishment as she ducked out of range of a vibroblade, only to be followed by two others on a collision course with her head. They clashed with her lightsaber in a flurry of sparks, and she sent a wave of force power bubbling outward with her hand, watching as the two attackers went flying across the room, only to be replaced by two more coming from behind.

Annoyed, she shot a look over her shoulder at the stunned former cultists, "_Now_ would be nice!"

Finally, Destris shook off his surprise and joined in the battle, his blaster clearing out scores of ambushers and allowing her to get some distance so she could more powerfully call on the Force for assistance.

That done, the battle was over quickly, replaced by an air of calm that swept through the atrium like a thick fog, silent save for their laboured breathing until she stepped up to meet them, the deactivation of her lightsaber disturbing the quiet air.

"What have we here?" Destris muttered, "The cavalry, looks like." He shrugged at her with a small shake of his head, "I appreciate the help, but I had it under control."

Minara stared at him, her eyes narrowed in irritation, "Yes, I could see that by the way you _stood in the corner like a lump_ while _I _fought off _your _attackers."

_"Show my master some respect, weakling," _Khem growled from his place behind her, breaking his quiet countenance, "_or I would be all too happy to consume you."_

Placing a placating hand on Khem's forearm (she was too short to reach his shoulder), she returned Destris's shrug with her own, "No matter. I was just being generous, but if you don't want my help, I'll just find some other way to secure my artifact." She nodded toward the exit, gesturing for Khem to follow, and started off, waiting for them to stop her once they came to their senses. It was all a ruse, of course. She was a Sith, and a powerful one at that if her reputation was anything to go by. But she wasn't invincible. The fact was, they needed one another, and if Rylee and Destris wanted to survive long enough to (possibly) attain their own cult, they were going to have to understand that whether they received her help or not depended on their willingness to help her, and their respect for her. Khem Val was right in that she wasn't helping _anyone _who didn't respect her abilities. She had a reputation and an appearance to maintain, for more reasons than simply her quest for power. And if that meant she had a right to mouth off to a couple of idiots too lazy to carve their own path to power, so much the better. Her goals for the Empire may have been primarily non-violent, but that didn't mean she had to be nice to the people who annoyed her. She was a _Sith_, after all. "Good luck defending yourselves now that Paladius knows where you're hiding." She called over her shoulder.

"My Lord!" The girl called from behind her, "Please, wait."

"Why should I?" She replied without stopping.

"Please excuse Destris." The girl begged, catching up with her her as Minara looked back at her over her shoulder, "He likes to think he's stronger than he is. But we desperately need your help to beat Paladius, and we can help you get your artifact, I promise you."

Minara turned fully to regard the girl, who thought it prudent to bow gracefully in her honour. Though it would have been ideal in maintaining her influence to allow Rylee to continue the submissive act, she couldn't shake the feeling of revulsion that shot through her and beckoned the girl to stand up straight again with a sigh, "I'm not a king, Rylee."

"Y-you are most kind, My Lord." The girl responded, straightening, and they made their way back to Destris again, whose body language appeared sufficiently cowed, but there was still a shred of defiance in his eyes. Minara had to give the man credit; he wasn't easily submissive to authority, reminding her a little of herself, and she wondered how he ended up in the cult in the first place.

"There was a lady Sith a while back, Darth Zash." He said upon her return, "Said she'd send someone to help us out. You it?"

Minara eyed the man as she held up a hand, "Let's get a few things straight: _I'm _not here to help _you__. You're _here to help _me._ Any benefits you happen to receive along the way are strictly a bonus, and whether or not you gain this much-desired _cult _of yours will depend greatly on how successful I am in retrieving my artifact. Am I understood?"

She was rewarded with a duet of "Yes, My Lord" (with a moment of hesitation in Destris' case-at least he wasn't a doormat) before they returned to the matter at hand.

"So long as Paladius is made to swallow dirt." Destris added with a sneer, "Said we'd make a-what's it-a mighty sword and strike against our enemies. It was all lies. But if you win the support of the poor, you knock Paladius's legs out from under him."

"So_, _how do I win the love of these poor, down-trodden souls?" Minara asked.

"What Paladius did was find the biggest, most vicious gang on the block and crush them." The young man explained, "Right now, the gang's the Krayts, named after the krayt dragon on Tatooine; their leader Saben thinks he's descended from one. Take out Saben, and the masses'll see you as a regular hero."

"And when another gang rises to take the Krayts' place?" Minara responded rhetorically, "The goal is to prove myself _different _from Paladius, yes? _Better._ I would just appear to be copying him if I followed his example."

"You're right. Taking out the Krayts' gains you followers only until the next gang rises up. But there may be another way." All eyes turned to Rylee, the apparent brains of the operation (though she may have traded her backbone in return for said brains), "A plague called 'the Rot' afflicts the poorest of Nar Shaddaa's poor. But it can be cured, and the person who does so will be regarded not just as a hero, but as a prophet."

_A better way indeed. _Minara thought. In terms of furthering her reputation, a gang could be controlled, but a plague was unpredictable, less useful in the long run even if she regulated the cure to a select few. She wasn't likely to do that anyway, no matter how it may benefit her reputation. Her morals wouldn't allow it, and it just felt... _wrong_. She imagined her sister would be disgusted if she found out. No, Minara decided. Better to cure the Rot now and be done with it, securing whatever power she could.

"I do like the sound of that." She responded, her lips twitching upwards in a grin as her arms crossed over her chest.

"The cure to the Rot is owned by Tydis Neutronics." Rylee explained with a nod, "You'll have to steal it from their warehouse, and then distribute it. The warehouse is heavily guarded, but if you can steal the cure and distribute it in the Corellian sector, you'll _own_ the lower classes."

It was the better choice, and though the terminology used by the woman struck a sensitive nerve inside her, Minara masked any evidence of her unrest behind a carefully perfected guise of impassivity before she decisively nodded her head, "The warehouse it is, then. Shall we?" She asked, turning to Khem. The dashade simply glared at her, to which she smiled broadly and started off towards the exit with the monster at her heels, "Excitable as always, my large and surly friend."

"_I am not your friend, little Sith." _Was his disgruntled reply, _"The time is coming, and make no mistake. When this bond is broken, I will prove it to you. I grow stronger every day."_

_I look forward to it, _Minara thought, _I hate the thought of you being forced to serve me. I promise you, it was an accident and I never wanted it to end up this way. _She said none of that aloud, however. Khem respected strength and action, rather than words, so instead, she let out an exaggerated sigh, "And we were getting along _so well_."


	4. Reunited With Fear

_Author's Note_

Whooeey! Was this chapter a doozey to write. I reeeeeeeally hated the Nar Shaddaa missions, especially as a LS Inquisitor, so I'm pretty happy to announce that it's almost over. Just another chapter,and we can say goodbye to all this unpleasantness! And then move on to even **more** unpleasantness! Hooray! \o/

Things are also about to get very interesting in the next chapter, however, as I'll be diverging from the canon storyline a little and introducing a brand new character. It'll be fun, I promise. :)

In the meantime, enjoy chapter 3!  
- BB

* * *

**The Harder They Fall  
Chapter Three: **_Reunited With Fear__  
_

* * *

_"Truly, your generosity _astounds_." - Minara Tao_

* * *

The Tydis Neutronics warehouse wasn't hard to find, thanks to the obnoxious neon lights broadcasting the company's wealth all over the Corellian sector. The fact that they were withholding a cure to a disease that was ravaging the lower classes was reason enough to warrant Minara's displeasure. And she certainly didn't have any problems cutting a swath through the people guarding it. They had the cure, and had elected to restrict its dispersal to those who could pay for it rather than those who needed it most. She would be the first to admit that it resonated with her on a personal level; had she grown up here instead of Coruscant, it was likely she or her sister would have suffered from the same disease. Perhaps she would regret her cold-hearted actions later, but for now, she let that anger take over and be the fuel for what she needed to do.

Guilt was all fine and good, but it was something she would have to deal with later.

At least, that's what she kept telling herself whenever her conscience caught up with her.

Administering the cure to the sick and needy, however, gave it some worth. Seeing the grateful looks on their faces, stricken by such unexpected kindness from someone higher up on the Imperial food chain was a sight Minara wasn't about to forget.

Rylee had taken the liberty of securing the Strell House, a local atrium dedicated to the late Daegin Strell for his charitable work, where the sick had been instructed to gather while their disease was treated. Perhaps the girl wasn't so useless after all. The building had become an impromptu headquarters for Minara's... _cult_, though for how long she could stand the thought, she had no idea.

Just another thing she'd have to deal with later.

The people had taken to calling her The Great Healer. She wasn't sure how to feel about that, but it was good that they didn't see her as an enemy, at least. She was slowly but surely stealing power from Paladius, but she didn't yet have enough to challenge him directly, and he was not the type of man to part with such an important artifact unless forced. She needed to outplay his own power, to knock his followers out from under him, but an everyday lightsaber battle or measure of how much lightning one could discharge in a single strike wouldn't do (though Minara was nearly certain she'd win on the lightning front). She needed something drastic to convince the masses that Paladius' power could never compete with her own. The problem, was that it most certainly could. She was an apprentice. Paladius was an experienced Sith Lord. She knew better than to try and compare her power with his own. Rylee then suggested simulating a groundquake by detonating gas pipes located beneath the lair of Paladius' cult during one of their meetings, which led to a rather frustrating exchange between one of Destris' local contacts who finally agreed to rig the pipes to explode on a discreet detonator kept hidden in Minara's cuff.

It may have been pure deception at its finest, but it worked like a charm.

Paladius was hosting the meeting of his closest followers remotely, of course, over a holo. She openly challenged his power as she walked in, casting doubt on his ability to lead, and convincing the assembled cultists that they would never need to be slaves to anyone—not Paladius, nor the gang lords ruling the lower sectors. That they could be free, and "With power such as this, you need never bow to another fool like Paladius again." Of course, Paladius saw her deception for what it was when the explosion sounded from beneath the atrium, causing his assembled followers to cower in fear of her magnificent "power" when the ground shook violently under their feet. Not all were convinced, however, but she and Khem made quick work of them when they attacked her. But the rest? The rest were more than willing to commit to following The Great Healer and her promises of freedom when all was said and done.

With Paladius' power over the lower classes gone, she was easily able to slip into the role of power on Nar Shaddaa that the other Sith had formerly possessed. He no longer had an army of followers getting in her way of challenging him directly. Any support she needed from the locals in the sector would be readily hers, and her influence over the lower classes was great, much as it disgusted her to be in such a position. But she had a goal, and until she had her artifact, she would play along.

So it surprised her when Paladius called her on her holo, recognizing her as Zash's apprentice and knowing exactly what she searched for. He called for her to meet him face-to-face where he would give her the artifact without any argument on his part. After what she'd just put him through, it was obviously a trap, but she wasn't about to turn down a chance to strike at him directly, now that his army of followers wasn't protecting him. Though he'd suggested that she bring them along, she instructed Destris and Rylee to stay behind as she had no need of them.

Actually striking him down... proved more difficult than anticipated. Not that she expected it to be easy by any means, but what actually happened chilled her to her core and couldn't have been predicted even if she was as in tune with the force as to see the future.

Her first thought upon seeing him was that he was even fatter in person. A life in the lap of the luxury one leeches out of the lower classes has a tendency to do that to a person.

He was civil enough when she walked in, not missing the two weequay bodyguards posted at the edges of his desk. He made his way to a shelf of spirits on the east side of the room, offering her a drink. But it wasn't difficult for her to see through the charade. She was anything but civil in return, compounded by the slight aching in her head eating away at her patience.

"You know exactly what you can _offer_ me." She grumbled, her eyes narrowed to slits as she looked at him, arms crossed over her chest.

"So confident!" Paladius replied as he poured a drink for himself and downed it in a gulp. His patronizing tone made her grind her teeth in her gums as the aching in her head grew to a dull throb. "So amazingly confident."

The room spun for a moment as the headache suddenly became dizziness. Minara wavered on her feet, feeling a wave of nausea wash over her. Something was very wrong, and she struggled to maintain her balance as the other sith continued.

"But, I dare say," he muttered, dropping the patronizing act to lower his voice to a threatening growl, "you've gravely underestimated me."

The nausea became a pain unlike anything she had ever experienced (and as a slave-turned-Sith, she had experienced a _lot_ of pain in her relatively short lifetime). It had her doubling over on the floor as her stomach felt like it was collapsing in on itself, while at the same time trying to explode out of her body. Her head felt like it had been smashed in with a sledgehammer and darkness tinted the edges of her vision.

"That painful twisting you feel in your gut," Paladius narrated as she struggled to listen, "is your essence draining rather rapidly. And that hollow sinking feeling? Your connection to the Force being severed."

_What? _

"Soon, you will be no more powerful than those other two fools, Dentin and Ramona, or whatever."

Minara stared at the floor in shock. The pain was beginning to pass—replaced by an unmitigated lack of strength that even had her arms straining to hold her own weight, but the horrible feeling of _loss_ was still there. She felt like a piece of herself had been violently ripped apart from her like a hunter tears the skin from his game. It was unlike anything she had ever felt, and for the first time since joining the Sith academy, she felt absolute, unmistakeable _fear_ worm its way up her spine and back down to her legs again. She allowed herself to feel it for just a moment before it turned to anger, and she let that anger fuel her, propelling her back up to her feet as adrenaline began to pump into her veins. That this disgusting excuse for a Sith Lord was getting the better of her filled her with a rage that would normally have lightning tingling at her fingertips, but instead, her palms were clammy with sweat, so she drew her lightsaber and ignited it, letting the yellow glow reflect in the fire of her eyes.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Khem pull his massive vibrosword from its scabbard at his back, and the two weequay bodyguards took their places beside Paladius.

Paladius glared at her, making a show of using the Force to pull his own lightsaber into his hands, "Greater Sith than you have fallen before me. Did you think you were the first to try and steal my cult? I could choke the life out of you right now, but since you seem so very eager, let's settle this with lightsabers."

"How very _kind_ of you to consider my zest for a real fight. Truly, your generosity _astounds_." She muttered sarcastically, her gaze narrowed in pure hatred as she took her stance, "Let's dance, you ponderous bastard."


	5. The Dark Side of Anger

_Author's Note_

Hoo boy, this chapter got away from me. It's definitely long, and I thought about splitting it into two, but I did say I was introducing a new OC in this chapter, and I'm kinda anxious to bring the character into the story so the chapter stays. This OC's story doesn't follow any of the in-game storylines, though she was inspired by my Imperial Agent. Hope you like her as much as I do. :)

I was honestly surprised that my very Force-power-based Inquisitor was still somehow able to access her force powers during this battle, given the circumstances, so I created an explanation, of sorts. Hope it's believable. :P

Many thanks to all of my reviewers/lurkers/readers/followers, etc. I love you all and I can't thank you enough for your support.

Enjoy!

- BB

* * *

**The Harder They Fall  
Chapter Four: **The Dark Side of Anger

* * *

"_Ah, on your knees... __**exactly**__ where you belong." – Lord Paladius_

* * *

Paladius was more of a challenge than Minara gave him credit for, and Khem Val was preoccupied with the two bodyguards, unable to assist her. Although the other sith's skills with a lightsaber were rusty from years of inaction, he still had the benefit of the Force to help him out. His reflexes were better than hers. He was faster, stronger, and still surprisingly agile for a man of his size. She, on the other hand, was now beginning to realize just how much she relied on the Force to help her fight, now that she no longer had any access to several of the skills she had come to lean on. Her lightsaber skills were terribly average, even _with _the Force, because the bulk of her strength lay in her manipulation of Force power. It was reckless and stupid and out of character for her to be so unprepared and she was mentally kicking herself for it now. She was no idiot, but she had gotten herself into one _idiotic _situation.

_If I survive this,_ she vowed, _I'm going to work like hell to better my lightsaber skills, even if I __**do **__manage to regain my connection to the Force. I can't afford to have this weakness._

Their lightsabers clashed in a flurry of sparks as he backed her into a corner. Khem saw, and to his credit (even though he wasn't particularly fond of her), tried to make his way over to help, but found himself quickly intercepted by one of the two weequay bodyguards, soon to be joined by the other.

She _hated _Paladius in that moment. She hated that he was such a coward that he had to drain her of her power in order to win against her in battle. She hated herself for allowing him to get the better of her, and she wondered how in the hell she had managed to get herself into this situation.

Their lightsabers locked and he forced her down to her knees in the corner, and she legitimately thought, _This is it. _She scoffed, _After all my hard work, __**this**__ is how I die. At the hands of a pompous bastard too cowardly to fight me at full strength._

_Pathetic._

"Ah, on your knees." He guffawed, pompous laughter echoing about the room, taunting her as he forced their locked weapons closer to her face so she could feel the heat burning her skin.

But in the face of her death as she instinctively looked away from the light and the heat began searing her cheek, all she truly felt after that moment of unmitigated hatred, was numbness, and an overwhelming disappointment in herself for failing. She'd failed herself. She'd failed her sister. All she ever wanted was to become someone her sister would be proud of. Someone she could look up to.

Well that, she had failed at, _spectacularly _so.

Well, she thought, maybe it wasn't the best way to spend the last few years of her life, but she had to admit, it was better than slavery. Albeit, that didn't take much, but she'd gotten used to the simple pleasures of life. It wasn't how she'd planned to die, but so little in her life had ever gone according to plan that she couldn't find it in her to be surprised.

_I'm sorry Ray. I tried, I really did. Don't hate me _too _much, will you?_

"So nice to see you in a position, if I'm not mistaken, that you're familiar with." Paladius continued, pulling her attention back to the matter at hand as his arrogance bit into the last reserves of her patience, "And it's _exactly _where you belong."

_Hold up._

Turns out she hated him even more than she thought possible. Her eyes shot back up to him, and she sorely wished looks could kill at that moment because she was picturing his death in a thousand very violent and _creative _ways. Oh, if she had access to the Force, _how she would make him suffer_. She wanted him dead more than anything, if for as much to prove she _wasn't _just a fountain of endless misfortune as for vengeance on the man who disconnected her from the Force. As such, she willed her legs and arms to gather the strength to fight, but even with adrenaline pumping in her veins, her limbs wouldn't listen.

Just then, a familiar voice she had not expected to hear again rose unbidden in her mind. It was a voice she recognized, but it was not her own, characterized by the way it spoke to her as if she were nothing more than a child. Indeed, it said as much.

"_Insolent __**child!**_**" **the voice bellowed in her mind, _"Who taught you to jump into these reckless situations? It certainly was no member of our family!"_

It was at that moment, that strength flooded into her limbs, propelling her to her feet and sending Paladius stumbling backwards with a shove. It was a power she knew was not her own, but she wasn't about to refuse the help. Her unrestrained hatred for the man in front of her had lightning sparking at her fingertips, and she welcomed the feeling, unaware that she had missed it so. But Minara had other plans for him, so she let the lightning die. Instead, she turned his earlier threats against him in his surprise. _I could choke the life out of you right now_, he'd said.

_Well, you should have done that. _As he stared at her in shock, she took the opportunity to make him the first person who had ever provoked her anger enough to lift him into the air with the Force by his throat, taking sick pleasure in the way his face turned pale as he clawed at his throat in a feeble attempt to let some oxygen into his lungs. In the space of a few seconds, he'd gone from looking down at her like the slavers who used to own her, to looking at her in awe and respect... and _fear_.

And she _liked _it. This was vengeance for what he'd done to her. She would make him pay for crossing her.

The weequay bodyguards, just as surprised as Paladius at the sudden turn of events, were easily taken out by Khem, who had taken advantage of their distraction just as she had. He stepped up beside her again as she held Paladius on the threshold between life and death.

"Mercy!" He gasped, managing to find his voice while he struggled for breath, "... Please!"

The corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk as she stepped closer and held him at the end of her lightsaber, "Why? You've gone out of your way to ensure I get none from you. Why should I show you any such courtesy?"

"I—I can help you!"

"I want no help from the likes of you." She grumbled, then decided that he wasn't quite squirming enough for her, so she squeezed tighter, satisfied by the renewed struggle the increase in pressure caused, "You're liable to turn on me the first chance you get. You are such a coward that you had to _drain me of my power_ in order to get the best of me. What's to stop you from attempting to stab me in the back?"

"I—I would—never! ... Such... power! The cult! The artifact!" He wheezed, "They're yours. You can—have both! Just—"

"Just _what_?" Minara prodded, accentuating the question by withdrawing her power and letting him crumple to the ground in a heap. She knew his type, and she knew _exactly _what he was about to suggest. "Just _let you_ run the cult in my name? Why? So you can still live off the profits and gifts of _my_ subjects while I'm off-planet?" She shrugged, "That seems a little unfair, don't you think? Why should you reap the benefits of all _my _hard work ripping your own followers out from under you?"

"I'm experienced." He said, finally managing to catch his breath while remaining submissively on the floor on his knees, "I've spent the better part of my adult life leading these people. I know how to rule them. I know what makes them tick."

"Why, Paladius!" Minara gave him an exaggerated gasp, "Are you suggesting that I don't know how to _lead_ the followers _I_ convinced to turn away from your corrupted and manipulative teachings?"

"I—well, My Lord, I just—Think of what I could accomplish on your behalf!"

She wasn't technically a Lord, but it certainly felt satisfying to hear a sith who had achieved such status refer to her as one. Especially one who had gone and pissed her off as much as he had. Still, he couldn't be trusted, and in order have the cult she had inadvertently acquired run to her _exact_ specifications, she would need people who could be manipulated. Though he was a coward, Paladius was smart. Minara knew this, and though he might have been convinced of her power, she wasn't convinced that he wouldn't turn on her in the long run. And he'd already proven that he was privy to some rather dishonourable acts to achieve his goals... such is the Sith way. In other words, Paladius had to die.

_Such a shame._ _And I was so looking forward to being stabbed in the back._

She couldn't exactly say she was too broken up about it. In fact, she had the irresistible desire to have a little bit of fun with him in return for the _kindness_ he'd shown her.

"My dear Paladius," she muttered, taking a step up to him with a sad shake of her head, "while I do appreciate the offer, and though I'm amused by your grovelling, I have my own plans for this cult, and they unfortunately don't include you." She called on the Force to choke him again, lifting him off his feet and watching in curiosity the way his face paled as he gasped for breath, "I'm sure you understand why it is that you can't be trusted. I can't have anyone believing that they could betray me and I'd just _let them live_, can I? Of course not. It's nothing personal." She paused for a moment, then shrugged, "Well, actually in this case, it sort of is. I mean, you did almost cut me off from the Force. You understand why I'd be upset about that, right?" She loosened her hold long enough for him to greedily gulp at the precious air supply of the room before cutting it off again, "Oh, _listen to me_. I'm rambling again. Khem, why didn't you tell me I was rambling? I have a tendency to do that when the adrenaline begins to flow. It's a weakness and I really should work on it. Hmm, as a former cult leader, you've probably given a lot of speeches, right? Maybe you have some suggestions." By this time, something dark and angry had settled in her stomach and she took sick pleasure in the way he gulped at the miniscule amounts of air she provided him in the reprieve, so she did it again before cutting him off a third time, "Wait, never mind. Taking suggestions from a man who tried to kill me is probably not the best idea."

Finally, her conscience broke out of the far reaches of her mind where her previous anger had sealed it away and she realized the torture she was putting the other sith through. Shock and revulsion filled her as if her blood had turned to ice, and she dropped him with a gasp of surprise. Then, she took two decisive steps toward the older sith, ignited her lightsaber and drove it straight through his heart, killing him instantly.

As he crumpled to the ground at her feet, she stood there for a moment, stone still as the realization of what she was becoming began to settle in. Minara had done the very thing she hated most as a sith. Something she told herself she would never do. She had tortured someone with waves of needless suffering, even though she had initially been planning to kill them anyway. And though that someone was a sith who had tried to kill her, she had already won the battle. Killing him was necessary. Making his death a painstakingly torturous process was not. She had purposefully made Paladius' death slow and arduous and she had _enjoyed it. _

She had needlessly lengthened the sith's suffering, loosening her hold long enough for him to take one gasp at the air only to cut off access once again. Just to watch him suffer in sick amusement for what he had done to her.

_What would Raya say if she saw you now?_

Nausea churned the contents of Minara's stomach and she fought with her body's gag reflex for a few moments at the darkness she now knew she was capable of.

And with that, the foreign and yet familiar presence that had filled her only moments ago left her and she collapsed to her knees as weakness flowed back into her bones. At that time, she knew that her power supply had run out. Whether or not it was permanent was as yet to be determined.

And suddenly, she was angry again. With Paladius for pushing her to this point, and with herself for allowing her self-control to be so easily compromised. She couldn't believe she'd let someone get the better of her like that and she was in no way happy about how things had turned out, or how she'd reacted.

Could it have been the dark presence helping her that had banished her conscience away to the farthest reaches of her mind so she couldn't hear its protests? Or was it simply because she had become so focused on her anger and hatred for the man before her that nothing else mattered? She didn't know how she felt about either scenario. If the presence had something to do with it, that meant it had some semblance of control over her mind. But her mind was the only thing she had that had ever remained truly _hers_, and relinquishing control of that was something she was in no way prepared to do—helpful or no. On the other hand, if it had nothing to do with the presence inside her, helping her, that meant she was capable of so much more darkness than she ever thought possible... and the implications of that scared her.

"Master." Khem growled behind her and she was suddenly aware that she'd been kneeling weak and motionless for the better part of a minute.

Shaking out of her disturbing thoughts, she leaned forward and checked Paladius' neck for the amulet. When she found nothing, she checked the pockets and while she didn't find the amulet she was seeking, she did find a remote that was all too familiar. Clenching her hand around it, she let out a controller breath of anger, though she couldn't exactly say she was surprised.

Setting her jaw, she glanced back at Khem over her shoulder and said, "Find the artifact," before pushing to her feet and making her way around the room looking for anything out of the ordinary. He nodded and set to searching the display cases scattered about the room while she took a closer look around. The two bodyguards lay dead on the floor nearby, but they bore no signs of what she was looking for. She couldn't remember seeing anyone else but them in the room, so she checked the walls for anything hidden, finally noticing a narrow door near the far corner of the room, hidden from view at an angle situated behind one of the cases. Her eyes narrowing, she stopped in front of the door, knocking quietly, "Hello?"

"Hello?" Came a quiet voice from the next room.

"That hypocritical son of a rancor." Minara muttered bitterly to herself as she hacked the door console and made her way into the room. Inside, a chiss woman turned a pair of pupil-less red eyes up to her without making eye-contact before quickly looking away once she noticed Minara's attire as she entered the tiny room. It was hardly bigger than the shanty Minara had lived in with her sister back on the streets of Coruscant. The chiss' long cerulean hair was loose over her shoulders as she sat on a dilapidated old cot against the wall with her knees pulled to her chest. When Minara drew closer, she noticed the slave collar around her neck and immediately hit the release on the remote in her hands.

It wasn't until the woman looked up at her again, eyes wide in astonishment as the collar fell into her lap that the surprise in her expression turned to one of recognition. Indeed, Minara then registered the familiarity of the chiss' features once she made eye-contact.

"Is that... " The woman trailed off in disbelief for a moment before continuing, "Minara?"

"Jehali?"

"You're a sith?" The chiss replied, before her eyes widened again in horror, "You're a sith!" She scrambled off the cot to kneel before her, sputtering, "M-my Lord, forgive me for speaking out of turn."

Minara's heart sank. Where was the woman she remembered? Where was the feisty and independent slicer that had taught her everything there was to know about hacking computer and security systems? Where was the woman who used to hack into the private diaries of their master and giggle with her about the frivolities of nobility? Jehali had been the one to help her adjust to her life as a slave without sacrificing her independence when Minara had landed in Moff Draycen's service after being torn away from her life on Coruscant and from her sister.

The two young girls connected quickly and easily with one another. Possibly because they shared an insatiable desire for freedom and independence, but neither really could confirm this possibility. Perhaps Minara was just looking for a girl near her age she could connect with when she really started to miss her sister. Neither really knew. They formed an easy friendship, and that was all that mattered.

According to Jehali (and Minara had no reason to disbelieve her), her family had been loyal servants of the Empire, her father employed in Imperial Intelligence until a fellow agent had framed him for a murder he did not commit. His alien status meant a horrible excuse for a trial, where he was found guilty and electrocuted to death right in front of his wife and daughter. Jehali and her mother were then separated and sold into slavery, and she never saw her mother again.

She was eleven years old at the time, right on the cusp of adulthood in terms of the Chiss, and her lofty opinion of the Empire was forever shattered. Luckily, her father had ingrained some of his knowledge of slicing into her from a young age and so Moff Draycen found value in her skill for decrypting and analyzing code rather than the more... _unpleasant_ uses some of the other slaves served, and he found her quiet resistance to being broken amusing. It was fortunate Minara had ended up in Draycen's service rather than that of someone else who tolerated absolutely no resistance. Jehali had taken her under her wing right away, understanding her situation and teaching her that in order to make herself useful, she had to be good at everything she put her hands on.

"Not _literally_, of course." She had said during one of the few instances they found themselves temporarily free of their master's gaze, "My skills are severely lacking in almost anything other than slicing, but there is little I can't do with results that are at least passable."

The woman kneeling before her right now, however, made her heart drop into her stomach.

"Inaje'hali." Minara said, letting out a sigh as she stooped to the other woman's level, planting her hands on her shoulders tight enough to get her attention but not enough to hurt her. She hoped the sound of her friend's traditional name coming from her would trigger some of the woman's old self and bring it to the surface. She had only ever called her as such once before, upon being first introduced to her. After which the chiss made it a point to have her refer to her by her core name, because they would then be equals. It was only after learning her past that it occurred to Minara that the other girl may not want to be reminded of the family she lost. When the chiss looked up at her in that puny room hidden in a corner of Paladius's lush mansion, with a tiny sliver of hope found in the endless depths of her crimson eyes, she thought it might have worked.

"You know I don't do that anymore." The chiss muttered, shaking her head as she met her eyes, "It's Jehali to you. Or Hali. Always has been."

Minara smiled. The old Jehali's independence was still buried in there somewhere, waiting to break free. "Years ago, you took me under your wing and showed me how to make the best of a horrible situation. I'll never be able to thank you enough for that. But, at least let me return the favour."

Jehali simply stared at her in disbelieving silence.

"From this moment on," Minara continued, a little smile pulling her lips to the side, "you are a free woman."

"B-but My Lord—"

"_Please_ don't call me that." She corrected fervently, "I am, and have always been Mina to you."

Jehali hesitated, mulling it over silently and so strongly Minara could almost hear the gears turning in the chiss' head. Finally, the woman took a breath and said, "Mina. I-it's not that simple. There's paperwork, proper channels, the chain of command. I can't just—"

"Hali, _trust me_." Minara pleaded, emphasizing her plea with a gentle pull on her old friend's shoulders, "I will take care of it, I _promise_."

"But... but where will I go?" She asked, shaking her head, "What will I do?"

"You'll find your way. Just as you've always done." The apprentice's mouth cracked into a grin, "Besides, with those slicing skills of yours and your new _clean slate_ status, you could go anywhere. Even..." _Wait... that's it!_

A plan suddenly revealed itself to her as her friend looked at her expectantly. _It's insane, but I don't have the luxury of a wide selection of allies at the moment. Khem doesn't even trust me... not that he should. So that brings my ally count right up to a nice round zero. _

But, if the woman agreed to Minara's plan, would it be of her own free will? Or would it just be some ingrained submission to her because she was a sith? How was Minara to get Jehali to see her as she friend she was, and not as just another master?

_Well... I suppose payment would be nice start._

Intrigued by her own idea, she looked Jehali purposefully in the eyes and asked, "How much do you hate the Empire?"

"I..." Jehali trailed off for a moment, briefly looking away, "I don't. I—I could never—"

"Hali." Minara admonished, giving her a look that said she knew better, "Remember who you're talking to. We used to fantasize about the fall of the Empire. Forget about what I am for a second and tell me the truth."

It took a moment for the chiss to respond. But when she did, Minara was rewarded with a dark glare so full of hate for the Empire that it rivalled her own, "Enough to wish its sound and utter destruction every time one of my masters laid their hands on me and told me to 'be thankful' for the attention because I was a filthy alien."

Minara's smile turned wry, and she rose to her feet, pulling the woman up with her, surprised at how much taller the chiss was than her so many years later compared to when they'd last seen each other, "Now _there's _the Hali I remember."


End file.
